A Broken Country
by Ezio Bonnefoy
Summary: Arthur finds Francis drunk, miserable and hurt. What had made the nation so upset? WARNING: Indication of rape, abuse and alcohol.


"Damn it all!"

Francis threw the half full vine bottle across the room. A loud crash left the glass shattering in a million pieces. The red drink poured down the wall it had hit, destroying the rosy wallpaper. Almost losing his balance from throwing the bottle, the obviously drunk Francis slurred for himself.

"Poutain! *hick* 'e is a goddamn poutain!"

He shouted while kicking his sofa before crashing down on it. Francis cursed the German in as many languages as he could. Screams of frustration echoed through his house as he pleaded for himself. Teary eyed and hurt he covered his face. Francis slammed his fist in frustration down on the pillows.

"'ow could he do such a thing?!It was ... in-human! I can't even...Merde!"

Francis took a breather. He had never been this upset. He was always drunk on some sort of love. But now he was just plainly intoxicated. He felt his chest ache of anger and despair. He needed another drink. He still wasn't drunk enough to drown his sorrows.

He sat up. With slow movements he stood up again finding his balance before he made his way to the kitchen.

Deep in his thoughts the Frenchman didn't notice the car pulling up on his driveway. It was England. He had done some planning on their next strategy against the Axis powers and couldn't wait to show Francis his brilliant plan. He felt amazing just thinking about it. Walking up to his sworn rivals house he heard a loud bang.

"Francis?"

He quickened his steps and an even louder crash occurred. Desperately the Brit called again.

"France?" Knocking on the front door he continued to hear the turmoil inside.

"France! What the hell are you doing in there!?"

Anxious he tried to let himself in. Damn, locked. He heard a french cry through the opened kitchen window.

"Oh, mon deu! Argh! Merde!" Was there someone trying to kill Francis? Kirkland felt desperate. Something was obviously terribly wrong here. Looking towards the kitchen he let his gut deside for him.

"Ah, to hell with it."

The Brit did as his many spies had taught him to do, jump in through the open window. He threw in his briefcase first, then made the, less than elegant, jump. It went off more swiftly in his mind then it played out, but at least now he was inside.

"Que'est-ce?" Francis turned from the liquor-filled cabinet. He was messy with dark bags under his eyes and hickeys on his neck. It matched the low sitting pants and the unevenly buttoned shirt. His belt wasn't fixed property and his shirt was also in bad shape missing one of it's buttons.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Arthur now saw the mess the Frenchman had made. In the sink where empty bottles and on the counter there were countless of used wine glasses. Some of them shattered and some just cracked. Cigarette butts never left his eyesight and a strong smell of alcohol stung his nose. Angry Britain walked around the kitchen island to confront the intoxicated nation.

"Come here you silly drunk we must- " He felt something crack under his feet. Turning his head down he was surprised. Red glass? He gasped when he finally saw Francis stand in the middle of it, without any kind of protection on his feet. Glass and blood where stuck between his toes.

"You...You shouldn't be 'ere..." The Frenchman said quietly before losing his balance and gliding down the cabinet with a bottle in his hand.

"You fool!" Britain grabbed his arm and lifted Francis of the ground. Weakly, the Frenchman tried to get loose.

"Let go of me idiot! *hick* Don't touch me!" England let the drunk down on the sofa before scolding him.

"What the hell do you think your doing?!" Britain took his coat of and laid it on a chair next to him. Folding his sleeves up he glared at his friend and then grabbed Francis foot and examined it.

"Our countries are at war and here you are getting drunk and hurting yourself!" The Brit took out a big piece of glass from Francis foot. The shocking pain made the drunk whimper before talking back.

"Merde! Get lost, eyebrows! I don't need your 'elp!"

Britain sighed.

"You need medical attention you idiot." He walked across the room to call for help. He had just picked up the phone and started dialing the number before Francis said anything.

"Non...I don't want anyone to see me like dis..." England turned around to look at the drunk. Francis looked at him with pleading eyes before covering his face with his arms.

"Please, Arthur..." Francis felt himself getting smaller. He now came to realize what state he was in. And to be found by Kirkland? It was even more embarrassing.

Stunned to hear a _please _from the rude French, he reluctantly obeyed. England sighed and put the phone down again.

"Okay then, for the moment." He straightened his back and walked back to the sofa, bringing a chair with him on the way. Francis face was still buried in his shirt's fabric. The tension in the air was unbearable. A moment passed before Francis finally broke the silence between them.

"I want you to leave-" Arthur cut Francis of.

"Well I'm not going to!" He sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose.

"Tell me whats going on. Why are you so upset?" Francis turned in towards the sofa.

"It's nothing. Now leave me be please." The Brit lowered one of his brows in frustration.

"Oh, come on. You can say anything to me. You'll just blame it on being drunk later anyways. Stop being such a wuss and tell me what's wrong!" They were never going to win a war if he was like this. He was a goddamn mess! Not even Italy was this incapable of fighting.

"I don't want to talk about it." Arthur's frustration was turning into anger now. The french smelled of alcohol and some weird perfume. He did recognize it's smell though. He had probably been out drinking, got laid, fallen madly in love, and now the lover had left him, like **always**.

"Spit it out frog and we can move on!" Clenching his teeth Britain watched Francis back for a few seconds. Waiting for him to say it was _true love_ or something stupid like that.

"You're trespassing. Get out. I don't want to talk to you." Arthur started boiling with anger and he finally lost it when the Frenchman opened his mouth again.

"I told you. Get lost, eyebrows." He grabbed Francis shoulder and turned him around.

"If you're going to insult me at least look me in the eye you twa-...What the..." England stopped screaming when he saw Francis wet face.

"Don't touch me!" Francis flung Arthur's arm off him and buried his face in his hands.

"Don't look at moi. Just...leave me alone!" Shocked, Britain didn't know what to say. He felt like he had hurt Francis by touching him, which was weird considering Francis' habit of getting clingy while drunk.

Arthur left the chair and sat down next to the couch. He looked upon his hands and wrists. Francis had some scratch marks on them. Probably from trying to pick up the broken glass. Or had he cut himself on purpose? Was he depressed? Arthur had no idea at the moment. He hesitated, but reached out and grabbed Francis wrist.

"Don't touch-...Please..." England pulled Francis' hand off his face so he could look him in the eye.

"Show me your face, ey?" Francis was still trying to hide, clenching his eyes shut and turning his face down into the sofa. He was crying alright. Like a baby, but without the awful sound. Only small sniffs and whimpers could be heard. Arthur didn't notice until now but, Francis was shivering intensely. Bloody hell. Was Francis panicking? Is this an anxiety attack, for real? A lump formed in Britain's stomach.

"Schh...Hush now, it's alright. Look at me." Arthur clenched his warm hands around Francis hand and arm to comfort him. Slowly petting him. The drunk finally turned and looked Arthur in the eye.

"Francis, you're scaring me. Tell me what's going on." The Brit looked upon him with a pleading look. Francis switched his eyes down to the couch with a face of guilt.

"You can tell me. I won't be mad anymore." The Brit said smiling softly. Francis sighed, shivering at the same time.

"D'accord. But dis stays between you and me." He sat up. Arthur hopped up and sat next to him, never letting go of Francis hand. France sighed again and dried his tears before continuing.

"Yesterday, I was...spying on Germany." He looked slightly towards Britain to make sure he wasn't going to hit him for being stupid. But he kept his cool.

"Go on." Arthur encouraged him to speak. The Brit didn't want Francis to conceal the true purpose of his misery.

"I was investigating the new bases 'e 'ad built for 'is armies all around Europe..." He paused for a minute.

"And you know, I came to realize... All the rumors we spread about 'im weren't all false." Arthur noticed that Francis hands tensed. His warmth also disappeared. It was as if his blood suddenly went cold. Slowly he saw the Frenchman's eyes blacken before him.

"'e 'ad chambers. The soldiers filled them with people but they never came out." Francis was now breathing rapidly.

"Until a truck came and they loaded it up with their bodies- Oh god..." Feeling sick, Francis covered his mouth. Shivering even more now. Arthur saw that his friend was getting pale.

"They were killing them, the Jews I sent 'im..." He quickly dried his teary eyes.

"What are you talking about? France-"

"I couldn't believe it! So I went to tell 'im. I told Germany what his army was doing to these poor souls and...He wanted me to be silent about dis, offered all the money I could carry. He knew I needed it badly, but I refused. I couldn't let dis happen. He wanted to keep me quiet. He knows I had no true fear but one."

"So what did he do?" Francis bit his lip and sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

"'e-"

He was silenced by the phone ringing. Not knowing what to do, Britain looked at France.

"Take it. Just say I'm sleeping."

"You sure? I-I mean-"

"Just take it." Arthur nodded and unwillingly left Francis at the couch. He took a breather and answered the phone.

"Hello, Britain here."

"_Oh! Bonjour! How nice of you to be in Paris, Britain. Is France with you?_" It was Francis' boss. No doubt about it.

"Unfortunately not. He is sleeping at the moment. He must've brought a girl over last night. You know how he is."

"_Oh, non Misieur. He came home alone last night. He kicked me out like I was a criminal and started drinking wine!_" A french laughter was heard over the phone. That's strange. He looks like he got lucky last night, Arthur thought for himself.

"Well, a rough day I suppose. I'll take care of him. Shall I leave him a message?"

"_Yes, please do. And scream it in 'is face so 'e gets it_._ GET YOUR BUTT OF THE BED NOW! WE 'AVE WORK TO DO! I NEED THE GERMAN REPORTS!_"

"Ah!" He almost dropped the phone.

"_If you could just tell 'im dat would be fine. Aurevoir!_"

"Yes! Goodbye!" He laid the phone down. Still tense from being scared he turned around.

"Francis...your boss is furious." Britain said politely, trying not to scare him.

"I know, stupid. But I'm not going to talk to 'im." Francis spat out resting his arms on his knees.

"You should. He wanted reports on your spying."

"Still. I'm not going to talk to 'im." Francis braided his fingers together.

"He said you came home alone last night. Is that true? It sure as hell doesn't look like it. I thought you had a lady over." England said and smirked. Francis glared at him and then looked away with teary eyes. A stone hit Arthur in the stomach.

"No way..." Now he finally saw it. And the scars on Francis wrists were not from glass. The wrongly sitting shirt and loose pants. He didn't dress himself last night, someone else did. The missing button on his shirt had been torn of. The reckless behavior and drinking. And him not wanting to be touched. The freshly made hickeys. And that smell, it wasn't perfume, it was hair wax and he knew he knew damn well who wore it.

"Wait...Did he?" Francis started sobbing again. He nodded and covered his face once more. His whole body shivered. He tried desperately to swallow the sorrow.

"Merde! *hick* I feel disgusting. Don't look at me..." The last words were but a whimper. He cried. Francis couldn't stop the tears from falling. Arthur cursed the German and went over to France.

"Don't worry love. I'm here. Everything will be fine." Arthur hugged Francis tight. He would smash the Germans face in, cut his bratwurst of and feed it to his dogs, but not now. He had to take care of France first. But that damn nation was going to pay for this.

The Brit adjusted his seat and laid the sobbing and shivering man down on his lap. France still hid his face under his hands. Feeling exposed and ashamed he didn't want the Brit seeing him. Stroking his head and hands England comforted his friend.

"Don't touch me. I'm dirty and disgusting..."

"Schh... It's alright. You're fine France. I don't see any dirty spots on you." Britain lifted Francis' hands and laid down a kiss on his forehead.

"See? No problem." Feeling a little safer the French didn't try to cover his face up anymore. There was no point to it. He couldn't be more embarrassed then he was now. Francis and Arthur's eyes met. He smiled softly. Kirkland stroked Francis' jaw before bending down closer to him.

"I'm here. So don't cry anymore." He whispered and kissed the Frenchman's salty lips.


End file.
